Mind The Gap / 4

Bella asked me about the Passion Pit as I was helping to haul her up the last steep embankment to the meadow. I was used to Jasper’s weight, which was nearer to my own, and practically flung her tiny self into the air in my haste to pull her along behind me. She landed in the grass with a thud, clutching my hand for a moment, and I leveled her a solemn stare when I told her that it wasn’t for her.

She listened to me about the crash pad thing.

I expected her to do the same now.

I’d been working the Passion Pit for months now and it was nothing to bat your lashes at. I scoured the skin from my palms and caught the bones of my ankles on sharp edges of rock. Left a good portion of my patience and sanity behind every time I didn’t make it. I’d had my eye on the route for a while, but last summer changed everything and now it felt as though something heavier weighed on the problem.

As though there was a curse on that rock.

I’d been in Texas when it happened, climbing in Hueco Tanks and visiting Jasper’s family. We really only crashed on their couches and spent our time with our fingers buried in the rock, getting wasted on tequila at night and sweating out our hangovers the next day.

The news reached us before we reached home.

James was dead. The cocky bastard who climbed like he had something to prove and flat out refused to even attempt anything rated below a nine. We called his type Number-Chasers behind their backs and cringed through painful conversations with them about their latest conquests. James’ ego caught up with him, landing him in the ICU for two whole days before he finally died. The Park Rangers pulled out the rock at the base of the climb that he’d broken himself on. Filled in the hole with dirt and put up that pyramid of rocks instead like it was supposed to remind us to be careful. A lot of people seemed to take warning and deserted the rock.

Some of us didn’t.

I wasn’t the only one after the Passion Pit. Jasper was one of the best climbers I knew, strong as a fucking bull and light as a goddamn feather, and I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that he probably wanted it just a badly as I did. This theory was proven to be true on our way back to the cars. Jasper’s holler came tumbling through the trees and Sparkles followed me into the woods until that giant, beautiful rock came into view.

Emmett was half-assing an attempt up the side as Jasper egged him on.

I tried not to feel territorial. It wasn’t like my name was etched into the rock or anything, but I was itching to throw a fit and place some claim on it. I was distracted enough by explaining to Bella that her current climb wasn’t even hard enough to register on the scale, all while the problem I was so enamored with almost topped it out. Then had to suffer through the excruciating awkwardness that followed Jasper’s foot-to-mouth moment, calling Bella my ‘gabby’ right fucking in front of her.

That sparkly fucking fiend was going to pay.

---

“How did I not know that your Gabby is Sparkles?” Jasper asked as we threw our gear into our cars. Even though Bella hadn’t said that she’d be back tomorrow, there was some sort of unspoken agreement between us. We’d climbed together every day since we met and missing one now just didn’t seem like an option. She drove off in a cloud of dust, her hand waving out the window. Jasper seemed just as confused about her choice of vehicle as I had been, staring off after her with his face scrunched.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It’s not like I run around the woods picking up random women all day.”

Jasper didn’t say a word, but eyed me carefully.

“She sent the Problem Queen today,” I told him, as if it justified something.

“Really? And how many attempts did it take? Or better yet, how many days did you just waste at that fucking rock?” he laughed, skeptical and condescending.

“Two.”

“See I - what?” Jasper choked on his prefab retort and goggled at me.

“Yeah. I told you.”

We both knew that it should have taken her a week, at least. Maybe two. Definitely not a matter of days, not for a Gumby. I’d taped up her hands, worried about her soft fingers and that wicked sloper that was currently proving to be a bit more than she could handle. I was wondering how far up she was going to make it this time as I watched her walk right up to that rock and top it on her first fucking try. I knew then that she was definitely dreaming about it, working her way through the problem over and over as she slept until it was only a matter of getting back here.

As usual, the tactic totally worked and she finally got herself up the rock, jumping to her feet with a high-pitched scream in her throat that echoed all of her pain and frustration into the trees. I leapt up the rock and gave her a stilted high-five after barely suppressing the urge to scoop her up in a hug, calling her a flat-lander just to see her reaction. She surprised me yet again, the scowl I expected vanishing the instant I reminded her of how far up off the ground she was. She wobbled, skin paling an alarming shade of green and when I put a hand on her arm to steady her, she slumped.

Ended up pressed against me, her hair and skin and smell in my nose and I swear for a moment that I was just as dizzy as she was.

Turns out, she’s not good with heights.

Huh.

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